


Puppy

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: To Lindir’s horror, Elrohir finds a pet.





	Puppy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “new pet” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Of all the mischief Elrohir’s ever gotten up to, this is the worst. The warg lifts its vile head to snarl, and Lindir trips over himself trying to hide behind Elrohir’s back. Propriety entirely drowned out by fear, Lindir clings to Elrohir’s robes and quakes, hoping Elladan will leap out any minute and proclaim this whole thing a joke, shooting an arrow straight between the monster’s eyes.

Instead, Elrohir clicks his tongue and kneels down, gesturing forward. He makes a soft whistling sound that has the beast’s ears perking up. Scandalized, Lindir tugs at Elrohir’s clock to try to bring him to his feet again, saying frantically, “Please, my lord, we must escape—”

But Elrohir just shrugs him off and whistles again. The warg starts trotting forward. Lindir winces when it reaches Elrohir’s outstretched hand. He expects its fangs to emerge, but instead, it merely nuzzles into Elrohir’s palm, letting out a horrible wailing sound that _might_ be purring, but could just as easily be pre-digestion noises. 

Lindir insists, “My lord, this is highly dangerous—”

But Elrohir chuckles, “Would you relax? It is a _baby_! I have seen cats larger than this!”

It’s only a pup _now_ , but it’ll grow to the size of a dozen cats with razor sharp teeth and fangs. To Lindir’s utter horror, Elrohir plucks the scruffy warg up and into his arms. As he rises to his feet again, the warg tries to rise too, stretching its little paws across Elrohir’s broad chest and nosing at Elrohir’s chin. He laughs as it licks his jaw, while Lindir sways on the spot and tries not to pass out.

At least Elrohir has the decency to look guilty when he asks, “Can you help me find a good place for it? I should like to move my quarters to somewhere with an attached courtyard where it can play. Elladan will help me with the actual move; I only need aid in the arrangements. ...And you will not tell my father, will you?”

Lindir tells Elrond _everything_. He can’t imagine keeping any secret, let alone one so terrible as this. He’s too frozen to answer anyway; he can only stare at the ragged, likely disease-ridden child of evil cradled in Elrohir’s loving arms. Its bushy tail wags happily at his elbow while its long tongue salivates grotesquely all along his throat. 

Lindir finally squeaks, “My lord, _please_ , this is highly inappropriate—”

Once again, Elrohir cuts him off with a curt, “Nonsense.” Then Elrohir repositions the pup and thrusts it forward—it hits Lindir square in the chest, and it’s all he can do not to topple over. “Just hold it. It is so fluffy! ...I should stop saying it. I believe it is a ‘he’. He will need a name, too... perhaps ‘Maglor’? Then when father does learn of it, he will be automatically endeared to my new pet.”

Lindir dully repeats, “Pet?” Naming such a beast after one of the greatest elves that ever lived seems entirely blasphemous. It’s all too much for Lindir to handle. He doesn’t have the adequate defenses to fight Elrohir when Elrohir slides the animal into Lindir’s grip. Only fears stops him from dropping it—as terrifying as holding it is, dropping it and angering it would be even worse. He looks at Elrohir helplessly, but Elrohir steps out of reach.

“Is it not adorable?” Elrohir asks through a broad smile. He looks impossibly genuine, even though Lindir is still hoping this is all some cruel prank.

The warg, which is surprisingly light and soft, snuggles into the crook of Lindir’s arms. Its yellow eyes close, ears twitching, and its tail flicks lazily up. He keeps expecting its claws to tear through his robes, but they seem to be dulled at this stage of its growth. It’s smaller than he thought a warg, even a pup, could ever be. And it does, bizarrely, act rather innocent in his arms. He watches it intently, waiting for it all to turn around, but nothing happens.

Finally, it sneezes. Then it starts trying to lick its snout, and Lindir conquers his fear enough to hold it at arm’s length—warg snot on his robes would be wholly unacceptable.

Held up only by his slim fingers beneath its forepaws, the warg blinks cutely up at him.

He feels traitorous for thinking of it as ‘cute.’ 

He whines, “ _My lord_ ,” and Elrohir finally takes pity on him, reaching out to take it back. As soon as Lindir’s hands are free, he has the incurable urge to wash them. It will be his first task when he escapes this. 

Elrohir smiles hopefully at him and presses, “Please? At least until he’s old enough to release on his own? His parents are dead, so he won’t make it without us...” He doesn’t add the inevitable addition; those parents likely died trying to kill elves.

But Lindir has never easily said no to any lord, even the two most troublesome ones. He eventually sighs, “Very well, I will search for appropriate accommodations.” As Elrohir brightens, Lindir quickly adds, “ _But_ , I will need to inform my Lord Elrond at some point. I suggest you tell him before then.”

Elrohir nods eagerly, even though Lindir very much doubts he’ll confess on his own. Then he leans forward to peck Lindir’s cheek and laugh, “You are the best, my friend!”

Lindir wrinkles his nose. Elrohir bends to place the warg on the ground again, then jogs off, whistling, and the mangy beast barks and scrambles to follow. 

Lindir’s left to shudder and hope he won’t be the one to clean up its messes.


End file.
